imperfect anythings
by doroniasobi
Summary: "I'm sorry we aren't perfect. But that's okay; we don't have to be." — RyomaSakuno. /for AquaJet/


**A/N: For AquaJet, who is just a ball of sunshine. I love you, Aqua. Happy Birthday~ **

* * *

He surprises her by saying yes too all too quickly. It's not the first thing she thinks of, but at first, she thinks she hears him wrong, so she stops, asks him to repeat again. He doesn't—just turns his head and swivels his eyes around, bumping his tennis racquet against his knee gently. At first, she doesn't know what she's waiting for, but when his golden eyes finally meet hers and when his racquet stops its movement and she sees him—all of him, his entirety—she knows she's been waiting, and her heart lights up—

And in what, she doesn't know. But it's okay, because she doesn't care. She doesn't have to. Just smiles to herself and takes a breath and steps forward to stand next to him.

It feels right. And she ignores the small feeling in her chest that murmurs that it's not.

Because it is, and she has no intention of ever letting go.

* * *

Her mind is in overdrive. Love isn't overanalyzing, like Inui-senpai's data or mathematics, and it's not supposed to be confusing, either. So she doesn't understand why it's like this. She visits his classroom during lunch, and they go to the rooftop, like in her romance novels and fantasies. He eats the lunch she packs, and they talk, for a while. They do just that. It's no different from anything else—it's supposed to be perfect.

Tomoka doesn't know, either, maybe because she's never been in love, or maybe she's just too overenthusiastic about things. When Sakuno tries to ask, Tomoka slumps her whole body against her desk and sighs loudly, making Sakuno wince and wonder.

"You're so lucky," she complains, staring at Sakuno and raising her eyebrows. "Horio isn't as cool as Ryoma-sama, you know? He talks too much and he's stupid."

Sakuno is almost surprised. "You're going out with Horio-kun?"

"I felt sorry for him," Tomoka defends, pouting and sighing again. "But you've already decided, haven't you?"

"What?"

"With Ryoma-sama," she clarifies. "You've decided, right? In your head. That you're going to make this right. That you're going to make it work."

Sakuno doesn't know what to say, so she bites her lip and asks sheepishly, "Is... that what I'm supposed to do?"

"I don't know," Tomoka says again, and stands up, points a finger in Sakuno's face. "But you _are_ going to make it right, right? This is _Ryoma-sama_ we're talking about. I'm expecting you to be in this relationship until you're both old and wrinkly. Got it? Sakunoooo, are you even listening to me?"

Sakuno blinks, opens her mouth to speak, but Horio suddenly bustles past, and before she can register it, Tomoka and Horio are already engaged in conversation, with Tomoka rolling her eyes and yelling at him and with Horio yelling back. She can hear Kachiro and Katsuo behind them, whispering about how long their relationship would last, really, with all their shouting going on.

But as she watches, she notices that their interaction is a bit different. She wonders if the same happiness she can see sparkling in Horio's eyes is sparkling in Ryoma's, too.

She wonders then, that if it is, then why hasn't she noticed yet?

* * *

He's always been observant.

"What are you looking for?" he asks her, when they're eating lunch again on the rooftop. Sakuno refocuses, stares at him, surprised.

"Um, I'm sorry," she says, sucking in an embarrassed breath. "What were you saying again?"

He stares at her for a while. "Never mind." Then he puts his chopsticks down and puts the lid back on the small container, standing up. "I'm going to go back to the classroom," he announces, but it feels like he's talking to the air, thin and stiff and cold.

"Oh," she says quietly, but he's already left. She looks up to the sky and asks, without meaning to—

"Are we really a relationship?"

But the sky never has answers.

Her mind thinks of Tomoka and Horio, their interaction, their bickering. And through Sakuno's eyes, they look perfect, and she doesn't even know why. She is a bit wistful—why can't we look like that? Maybe Sakuno is the one who doesn't know anything about love.

* * *

Two days later, she's flipping coins, looking for signs. _Heads, I made the right choice_. And even when it is, indeed, heads, something in her knows that she wouldn't be doing this if it felt right enough not to.

He catches her hand. The coin clatters to the floor. _What are you doing_, he says, but Sakuno can't hear anything but garbled sounds, mushing together in a symphony of mixed, scattered pieces of music, and she can't hear the noise she makes at the back of her throat, a soft, simple whimper that only he can hear.

It's heads.

* * *

She doesn't even know if Ryoma is the type to be confrontational, but she knows that it really isn't a confrontation when he drops a line that makes her heart freeze.

"Why did you ask, if you don't like me?"

She doesn't know. And that's just it. _She doesn't know._ It's almost a chance to let go of everything that she's been pulled down by in the last month, everything she's tried to feel, without feeling it. She thought she loved him. But now she doesn't know anymore.

But still, she has to give an answer.

"I... don't know." But that's not enough. She needs to give him a proper answer. "I thought I could."

His words come back and hit her in the back, twice—no, maybe five or six times harder. "I thought you did."

"I love you." The words sound empty to her own ears. (So how do they sound in his?)

He stares. "Stop it."

She doesn't understand. Stop what?

"What happened to you, Ryuuzaki?"

That is one of his many questions that she doesn't know how to even begin to answer.

* * *

It's not exactly a break up. It feels more of a new beginning, even though it starts in the middle and not really at the beginning. But he says it first. Sakuno doesn't know if she hears her own heart breaking. (Or maybe it's not.)

"Let's... go back to being friends."

That afternoon, he skips tennis practice—a first for him, and even though she's a bit surprised, she is a little bit happy—to walk her home. It's scary, feeling so controlled. It's even more scary, when she sneaks a glance at his face, when his face is normal, the same. Or at least, it still feels the same.

"I'm sorry," she whispers to him when they reach her house.

He shrugs. "Nothing to be sorry about."

When she watches him walk away, there is no relief. In fact, it only hurts more, similar to that of an infected wound.

* * *

The next time they see each other is at a tennis tournament. It's the same—with people everywhere, with reporters and players and practising going on and tennis balls being tossed. She hands him a towel, smiles (but she isn't sure if it reaches her eyes or not), and says, "Good luck."

He nods a bit, adjusts the cap on his head, and accepts the towel gratefully. The brush of skin is like fire. She jerks her hand away, running her thumb over the spot again and again. He looks at her.

_Are you okay?_

She breathes a sigh out and manages another smile. "I will be," she assures him.

He continues to stare at her for a little while, and her eyes begin to flicker back and forth out of nervousness. "Um," she says, her voice bobbing a bit with embarrassment. "I'm... going to go over there," she squeaks, her feet tangling, sending her crashing to the ground and knocking all the water bottles over.

Everyone around her stares. Sakuno blushes. Ryoma rolls his eyes, but Sakuno thinks that she can see the corners of his mouth lift, just a little bit.

Oishi is the one who helps her up later, but her eyes close and she pretends it's Ryoma.

Nothing stops her this time.

* * *

"Welcome back," he tells her, after his match is done.

"Eh?"

He shrugs and walks away. "You don't have to understand."

Somehow, hearing those words come from his mouth is like blowing a wind of relief in her face. And she's relieved, because nothing's changed.

* * *

It's on the first day of high school that she decides to try again. This time, she's going to make it right. This time, she's going to make it work. This time, doubts that had previously clouded her mind were cleared. This time, it'd be different. She'd make sure of that.

"Ryoma-kun," she squeaks, holding a small box out to him. "I—um, Happy Valentine's Day!"

He stares at her, and then at the chocolate in her hands. She has her eyes squeezed shut, but she can still feel the aura of his gaze, piercing through.

"Open your eyes," he instructs. She jumps, does so, and looks up slowly. She isn't prepared when he suddenly grabs her wrist and drags her along.

"It's cold," he complains. "We're going to be late."

Sakuno sucks in a breath and feels her face colour with happiness.

This time, there is no gap they have to bridge.

* * *

_Owari_

_2010.12.19  
_


End file.
